


The Consequence of Choice

by WhitenyRose



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 09:20:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14446176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhitenyRose/pseuds/WhitenyRose
Summary: When Ri'ella finds the Qunari she loves is dying. She has to decide exactly what she is willing to do to keep him alive. And whether or not either of them will be able to live with her decision.





	The Consequence of Choice

**Author's Note:**

> If any one is here from my Naruto fanfic, I swear I do still plan to finish it, I just have so many other things I've been wanting to start posting so I can't help myself.
> 
> If not, ignore that.
> 
> I hope everyone enjoys reading this, and I apologize now I will take absolutely forever to update and it will be completely sporadic. However, I hope you'll stick with me anyway. 
> 
> As always kudos, comments, criticism are all always welcomed and appreciated.

“BUUULLLLL!!!!”

Watching him fall was like seeing a mountain crumble. Something that didn’t really make sense, a mountain should stand, it was strong. And Bull, he was supposed to be like a mountain, he was supposed to be huge and unmovable. He wasn’t supposed to fall.

He was supposed to get back up if he did.

But even before he hit the ground with a dull and shaking thud, she knew he wouldn’t be getting back up. He hadn’t just been knocked over. Bull had collapsed, completely gone. Lights out. And she knew without question, it was the mage. The Venatori mage, the blood mage had been aiming for Bull, and Dorian’s barrier hadn’t been recast in time to redirect the spell.

Whatever the spell so happened to be.

Didn’t really matter what spell it was, blood magic could do real damage. 

“Shit.” The muttered utterance from her left drew her attention just enough, but she didn’t turn from the battle. There were still too many enemies for her to really turn her focus anywhere else. Couldn’t help Bull until they were dealt with.

The shimmer of a cast barrier shifted around Bull and faded as the spell settled. Dorian had cast it, Bull would be safe enough, hopefully, until they could get to him. 

Sera popped into sight as she drew a knife from ear to ear across one warrior’s throat. One more down, the two mages left and a rogue. There was no question that she, Dorian, and Sera could handle them. The question was how long would it take?

Ri’ella wanted it done, now. 

Spinning her staff back, behind her back, she held it there rather than swing back forward and cast a spell. Instead she pushed her left hand forward, the hand with the glowing green mark. It always hurt to use, to close rifts, to use as a weapon, it didn’t matter. The pain was sharp, like her hand was being cut or ripped open. Like the mark on her hand was a rift itself trying to open. 

She aimed the glowing light at the two mages, it might not be enough to kill them both but should do enough damage that another spell from her or an attack from her companions would finish the kill. The magic storm from the mark would weaken and kill any barriers the mages could cast around themselves.

The blood mage went up in flames while two arrows sank into the other, one through the eye, the other in the man’s throat. Dead.

Immediately Ri’ella’s focus moved to Bull, her feet carrying her forward, breaking into a run. 

He was on his side, legs sprawled and one arm caught underneath his bulk. There was blood, a few grazes from rogues but nothing to worry about. Cuts that probably wouldn’t even scar. Her hands met his shoulder as she sank to her kneels beside his form. His skin felt normal, he almost looked like he was sleeping, which truely didn’t make any sense. Except this was blood magic, not necromancy. A different kind of poison, one that was much harder to find, to kill.

She caste a dispell over him, she knew it wouldn’t work but it wouldn’t hurt to try. It would take care of any other spell that Bull might have taken during the fight.

Nothing changed. Not that she expected it to.

“Sera.”

“Yeah, Quizzy?” the slight form of the other elf moved closer.

“Find the nearest Inquisition soldiers. Get a healer here. A cart. And the Chargers.”

There wasn’t a response, Sera just dashed away, she lept onto her blonde horse and with a thunder of hooves disappeared from sight.

Dorian was now at her side. He was bleeding from a cut to the forehead and favoring one leg. Not anything major perhaps but enough to slow him down. He had kept his barrier on Bull and it had cost him.

He held out his hands over Bull, the warmth of a healing spell moving past her skin as it settled over Bull. The healing would help, but until they knew the exact spell that had been used it would only slow down whatever had been done. 

Ri’ella stood slowly. Fished a lyrium potion from her bag and handed it to Dorian. “Fix yourself up too.”

Then she moved away from the Qunari and the mage. The glow from the Mark’s spell had faded, no longer a danger. She stalked toward the fallen body of the blood mage. So many of the Venatori mages kept spellbooks on them, so many of them were Spellcasters and used their books in fights.

The hope, that this mage had his spellbook on his person. She kicked his satchel away from his body before kneeling to go through it. Lyrium potions, a few health potions, some runes, and there, a leather bound book.

She pulled it free, flipping it open to a random page. It was in Tevene. Of course it was. And it looked like an archaic version too.But she had Dorian, a well educated Tevinter Altus who could translate. Her knowledge of Tevene really only spanning the insults that people from Tevinter threw at the elvhen. 

But it was a spellbook. That she could tell. So she tucked the volume into her pack, stood from crouching and moved back across the clearing to where Dorian was now healing his own wounds.

Dorian finished his current spell, and moved to cast another over Bull.

Ri’ella placed a hand on his arm, stopping the upwards motion. No use having Dorian exhaust himself. There was very little either of them could do. When he’d had some rest he could heal Bull again. They were stuck here until Sera returned with a horse and cart. Which most likely meant she’d have to go back to the nearest camp, which was about an hour away on a fast horse, with no complications. And back to this clearing would take almost twice that long with the cart. 

She and Dorian both sat down to wait.

They took turns casting healing over Bull. She could heal but not anywhere near as well as Dorian. Still every little bit helped. She hadn’t needed to learn how to heal, there were others who could heal and she had been much better at offensive magic.

Dorian didn’t seem like the type to be much of a healer, and true Solas was better for it, but Dorian did well. It was so opposite to his necromancy that it seemed strange and yet also fit him well. She wasn’t exactly sure when he had learned to do it, but it seemed to her like it was something he had picked up on his way South. He didn’t have the same flare when he cast this spell as he did when he did practically everything else. 

And his energy was flagging. His shoulders were drooping, his staff on the ground in front of his feet. Dark circles had formed under his eyes. Dorian’s head hung forward, too much effort to keep it up.

Ri’ella settled herself, cross legged by Bull, staff in her lap. 

“Dorian, sleep. I’ll wake you up if I sense anyone.”

“No, it’s not safe. You shouldn’t be the only--”

“You aren’t useful right now anyway. You’re exhausted and you know it.”

The defiance in Dorian’s eyes flickered. He looked away from her.

“Alright.” he conceded.

They had all gotten used to sleeping anywhere and everywhere as they traveled. And the Emerald Graves was certainly not the worst place they had been. Other than the Venatori and the Freemen it was actually quite beautiful. It made her wonder what it would have been like if her people still lived here.

Dorian settled back, his pack under his head. It couldn’t be very comfortable, but Dorian’s eyes closed and his body relaxed as he fell into sleep with an exhausted ease. That kind of exhausted that could drag you into sleep all at once, like drowning. 

She assumed she should be equally exhausted. She wasn’t. 

Growing up as part of the elvhen, she’d moved in aravells across great distances; been the Keeper’s First. She was used to taking responsibility, to sleeping less, to more hardship, to being more than everyone else.

Being Inquisitor might mean a much larger group of people to care for, but it wasn’t really all that different.

She moved one hand up to the cord around her neck. Slipped the weight at the end out from under her tunic. The split dragon’s tooth, a pendant at the end of the necklace, was maybe the only thing that would keep her together for the next few hours.

With a hand against Bull’s arm, she cast another healing spell, felt it sink beneath his skin. Her other hand still clutched at the tooth, the edges digging into her palm and fingers but she just held tighter.

This meant they would always be together. No matter what. It was a promise. And she would do everything in her power to save him. As far as Ri’ella was concerned there was no other option. And if it meant using every last bit of influence as the leader of the Inquisition, then so be it. 

Bull was hers. She was his. 

His half of the dragon’s tooth, though the tooth had not actually split evenly and Bull carried the much larger of the two pieces, was around his neck. It was fallen to the side just as he was. When the healing spell finished, the magic no longer flowing from her fingers, she reached out with light fingers and traced the edge of the ivory tooth. She had to believe that everything would be okay.

Bull’s breathing remained steady. He seemed almost completely fine. If you ignored the fact that his eyes wouldn’t open, that there was nothing she could do to wake him.   
The returning sound of hoofbeats roused Dorian. He sat up with speed, hand grabbing his staff as he pushed himself to standing. Ri’ella was already standing, staff at the ready, waiting for whoever came into the clearing.

It was too fast to have been the cart for Bull. It had only been two and a half hours at most.

But it was Sera. And three other riders behind her.

They pulled up next to where they stood, Sera and the other three who had come, Krem, Stitches, and a camp healer.

“Rode ahead. Cart’s an hour ish behind,” Sera panted as she slid from her horse, the other two just behind. 

Krem, Stitches and the healer focused immediately on Bull, not stopping to talk or even look at either of them. 

The healer and Stitches set to work, mouths in lines of stern determination. Krem hovered rocking from foot to foot like a mother watching over her hurt child.

The Chargers were such a tight knit group. Bull had created a family from a group of misfits and mercenaries. And they needed him. Not to survive perhaps, but they needed Bull all the same. He was a large part of their lives, just as they were such a large part of his. He had given up the Qun for them and he hadn't for one second regretted it.

She, Dorian and Sera all stood back further, but watched all the same. Focused on the fallen male, as if well wishes would help.

Ri’ella knew better than that. Well wishes did nothing more than satisfy the person giving them. 

But she was worried. Very worried. In fact, terror gnawed at her insides already. Something was very wrong and she could sense it. Could feel it. Dread filled her. She didn’t know what it was, it didn’t feel like imminent death, not exactly, but it felt like pain and sorrow.

The taste was on her tongue, at the back of her throat. Like a vile poison she had drunk.

So she wished anyway. Because she didn’t know what else to do. 

The cart pulled by two horses arrived with four more of the Chargers, three on horses and another healer in the back. 

They loaded the bulk of Bull onto the wooden bed of the cart doing their best not to hurt him further. 

Stitches and the first healer climbed into the back with them. The first healer was already well spent. Which didn’t bode well. But Dorian had the journal and he was already working hard to translate as much as he could as fast as he could, so that they could all work through the spells to find which had been used. 

The rest of them mounted their own horses, riding alongside the cart. 

However, before long, a raven appeared and landed on the pommel of Ri’ella’s saddle. She opened the pouch tied to the raven’s leg, pulling out the small folded piece of parchment, eyes scanning the small coded words.

Her face scrunched into a grimace. Not what she wanted to deal with right now. She wanted to stay with Bull.

But she was the Inquisitor and her responsibilities pulled her away. Duty forced her hand. And she knew Bull would understand. 

“Sera,” her voice snapped with authority, a rather new skill, one she hadn’t particularly needed with her clan, “we ride out. We are needed.”

Dorian looked up from where he was scribbling into his own journal, working on the translation.

“No. You stay here. He will need the translation. We will pick up Vivienne from one of the nearby camps.”

Dorian closed his mouth and nodded. Afterall he and Bull did have a rather unique almost-friendship.

Looking over the rest of the people with them, she met Krem’s eyes, he nodded. She nodded back, hand grasping the tooth just underneath the top of her tunic.

Krem would do everything he could to protect Bull. Dorian, the healers, Stitches would do everything they could to fix him.

She had to trust that. It was rather unfortunate that she was so bad at trusting. But she settled into the feeling as best she could. She could trust at least that these were the safest hands in which to leave Bull. That would have to be enough.

With a deep breath, she pulled herself up, stretching her spine, letting her body relax into the position that would allow for a much harder, faster ride.

Sera rode up next to her, shifting similarly. With a click of a tongue, her mount lunged forward, the raven taking flight. No need for a return message. They turned north. Away from the camp to the east where Bull and the rest were headed.

She was needed. The Inquisitor was always needed. She was the Inquisitor. It was time to go, she had business elsewhere.

Ri’ella let all her feelings about Bull, the worry, terror, dread, fall away. Locked all of them away in a box deep inside. They were not helpful, they were distracting. And she could not afford a distraction.

Already she had sacrificed much. If this required another sacrifice so be it. She just desperately hoped the sacrifice would not be Bull’s life. She wasn’t sure how she would survive that.

She loved him.

*

Just because Corepheus had been defeated didn’t mean that the Inquisition was finished. Ri’ella was still the only person able to close rifts, and they were still scattered all across the continent. There were still Venatori to wipe out. There was still unrest, undead, demons, red lyrium, and a million other things that needed to be dealt with.

And the Inquisitor, well the Inquisitor did not get to stop. The Inquisitor had to close the rifts. The Inquisitor still had to lead the Inquisition. And the Inquisitor did not get to put her own life before her job. Because her job was protecting the lives of thousands of people.

So she had left Bull. Left him in the care of others. And she had ridden out to fight demons. She had ridden away from him and had not turned back, no matter how much her heart wanted to.

And she went to work. Ri’ella fought the demons, the Venatori, the undead. She closed rift after rift. People were saved. She fought and fought and fought. There would never be an end. Already there had been over a year given to the Inquisition and she could see years before her.

But she loved him.

*

The clatter of hooves on the cobbled stone bridge echoed as they crossed the bridge into Skyhold’s courtyard.

It was good to be home. Or at least to be here, a place as much a home as anywhere else Ri’ella had been. Home was something warm, and she hadn’t known warm in a very long time. She had memories, old, very old memories of something that might have been home but those were too distant and too vague for her to count. 

But Skyhold was a place she loved, home or not. It was beautiful, even before it had been repaired she had thought so. A castle, one that was for all intents and purposes, hers. It was perfect. For the Inquisition. For the Inquisitor.

But she didn’t stop to look as she usually did when she returned.

Bull was here. In the infirmary most likely and she would do nothing else before she saw him. 

She slid from her horse, reigns passing into the hand of the page who stood nearby. He would take care of her horse for her, this time anyway. She didn’t even pause as her feet hit the ground, forward motion already carrying her across the last part of the lower courtyard and up the main stairs to the upper level of the courtyard. 

She pushed through the door into the infirmary, as usual Bull was not particularly hard to find. He was, after all, rather large. He was three beds down and to the left. The healers, nurses and coherent patients greeted her as she passed, she nodded in return.

When she stopped by the side of the bed, one of the healers moved toward them. Krem was sitting beside the bed. When she met his eyes, he shook his head. When Ri’ella’s hand touched Bull’s uncovered shoulder, she found it much colder than it should have been. 

The healer reached them, “Inquisitor. The Iron Bull is still unconscious. Unfortunately, he is continuing to decline. The Tevinter mage was here not long ago trying to help us find which spell has affected him.” 

Ri’ella nodded to the healer, who left to continue working with other wounded men and women. 

Her eyes didn’t leave the form of her lover. Her hand reached for the pendant around her neck. She had been doing that a lot. 

She sent up a prayer. Something she hadn’t done in years. The Creators didn’t exist, neither did the Maker. So she wasn’t sure who exactly she was praying to, but she still prayed. That Dorian would find something they could use. That Bull would hold on long enough for them to help.

Without a word, Ri’ella nodded to Krem, turned and left the room. Same as always, she had more to do, people to talk to, a million things to fix. 

Josephine, Leliana and Cullen all murmured concern about Bull, all told her they were sorry, that they hoped he would be better soon. Then it was on to work. Political maneuvering, killing people in the shadows, moving armies to fight, moving armies to make statements. Reading missives and letters. Learning what had happened in her absence, absorbing all the information she could so that she could at least try to make good decisions. 

“We will meet again in the morning. That is enough for today.”

All three advisors nodded and left the room, to work on their own responsibilities rather than to beds and much needed sleep.

Not that she was any better. She was lucky if she got five hours of sleep anymore. Between emergencies and her own nightmares there wasn’t much solace or solitude in sleep. 

She hoped Dorian would still be awake as she climbed the flight of stairs to the library. And he was, pacing across the floor holding the blood mage’s spellbook, muttering to himself. The surprise was Vivienne who was sitting at the nearby desk, listening intently.

As she neared the two mages she heard, “No, dear. That would not have this effect. Similar perhaps but he would already be dead.”

“But what if the spell had been modified--” Dorian’s eyes met Ri’ella’s as she drew closer. “Inquisitor.”

“Dorian,” Vivienne turned toward Ri’ella, “Vivienne.” and the other woman nodded in response.

“What have you found?” She wasn’t sure what she hoped. 

Dorian gestured grandly with the hand holding the book, “We have a few promising spells that could have been used. Madame De Fer and I were working one deciding which would be the most probable.”

“We’ve only just made it back to Skyhold ourselves, the Chargers and me, I mean. Just three days ago actually, so we haven’t been able to go through all of the possibilities. Madame joined me soon after she returned with you”

“Dear,” this time Vivienne was speaking to her, dark eyes focused on her, “We have a good idea which one it is.” Dorian scowled, looking like he was more than ready to hit Vivienne with his staff. “We will, of course, check out all possibilities. However, it does not look good.”

Vivienne paused, as if unsure, which wasn’t much like Vivienne at all. “We don’t have a way to reverse it. We can try to create a second spell that would negate the effects but that can take a very long time and we have very little.”

Dorian was tight lipped, he had stopped pacing and was looking out the window in his alcove, eyes hard and focused, tense.

Vivienne held a hint of sympathy in her voice but there was little outward sign of any distress she might feel.

“I am so sorry my dear.”

“I--” her voice croaked as it left her throat. Ri’ella swallowed once then tried again. “I appreciate the honesty Vivienne.”

Dorian turned back to face them both. Still distressed. But determined as well.

“It still could be something else. We will keep looking. We have also requested a group of mages to help work through the spell we think could be affecting Bull so that together we can all work to counter it. It’ll be fine, Levellan. We will figure it out.”

Ri’ella wasn’t sure if he was reassuring her or himself, despite the comment being aimed at her. It seemed like Dorian desperately needed to hear those words. Needed the hope.

“The spell?”

Vivienne picked up a single piece of parchment from the desk, handed it over. The spell was simple enough. Only about a paragraph in description. Easy to cast but under the correct conditions could be used to great effect. And what they already knew, it was blood magic.

“Neither of us know enough about blood magic to be of much use,” Vivienne stated, “We are hoping Fiona or some of her mages will know something at least.”

“We could always capture one of the Venatori mages and get him to talk. To fix it.”

“You said yourself Dorian that we couldn’t trust them even if they were indeed capable. Mages, especially blood mages, are not particularly open with their spells.”

Dorian looked away from Ri’ella. 

“Thank you. Both of you. Please let me know if there are any developments.” Not knowing what else to say, Ri’ella left the library. 

Thankfully the main hall was almost empty given the time of night. No one stopped her while she crossed the open space, pulled open a door, and stepped into the hall that led up to her room.

She shoved the second door open, sprinting up the steps in practiced motions. She stopped dead in the middle of her room. 

Bull was in this room, the essence of him. He had been living here with her, sleeping here. He had clothing in the drawers, he had a weapons rack with his favorite mauls in the corner. He had his own desk, covered in paperwork. He had a chest against the wall with anything and everything he kept. She didn’t even really know what was in there, but she knew it was important to him, whatever it was.

The balcony doors were open, she always left them open, cold or not she felt a need for the fresh air. She craved it. Moving to the railing, looking out over the mountains, the snow, the soldier’s camps bellow in the valley, she finally let herself settle into the reality of Bull being so injured.

Bull was injured. Bull might die. The Iron Bull was not supposed to leave her.

The parchment was crumpled in her fist. She stalked to her desk, lay the paper flat and ran a hand over it to smooth it back down.

Loose hair fell into her face and she pushed it back forcefully behind pointed ears with impatient hands. She leaned forward, eyes scanning over the spell again.

And again.

There was something familiar here. Something that seemed a bit elvhen, but she wasn’t sure what. She wished Solas was here, he would have some insight at least. But Solas was gone, gone once they had defeated Corypheus. He had just disappeared.

And she didn’t have any of the books she’d had as part of her clan, books that she was trying to remember. It wasn’t like she’d carried spellbooks with her when she had gone to spy on the conclave.

Perhaps a letter to the Keeper was in order. It might not make it in time but it was better to try. She pulled a fresh sheet of parchment forward and dipped a quill into the ink. The soft scratching filled the room. She described the spell and asked for any similar spells that were in the spellbooks the woman kept.

The parchment was folded, sealed with wax pressed by the Inquisitor’s seal. So very official.

Then it was back down to the main hall where she snagged the first messenger she came across, had her take the message to Leliana or her people to deliver to her clan as soon as possible. 

The young girl quickly left to do her bidding. 

Ri’ella retreated to her room again. Sat at her desk.

Her head fell into her hands. The air in her lungs escaped with a rush. She sucked in another breath. Controlled her breath, and released this breath slowly. Her head came up and out of her hands.

She read through the spell one more time. Hoping that whatever memory was trying to surface would. When it didn’t, she pushed it to the side, and dragged the stack of missives, letters and documents that needed responses and signatures, before her. 

The work was never done.

She would sleep when she was dead.

A dry laugh escaped her.

When she had said that to Bull, he had physically thrown her over his shoulder and carried her to the bed. He’d tossed her onto the mattress where she had bounced once before he descended on her, pinning her with his weight.

She had laughed and tried to push him off.

He had grinned back, but there was a seriousness to him. He hadn’t moved. “Kadan,” he’d murmured, “I will keep you safe, even from your own stubbornness.” 

She’d looked at him, the seriousness in his face, the determination behind his words. She had only meant it as a joke, but what had he heard?

“Come, Kadan, it’s time to sleep.”

And she had slept. They woke up like that, the edge of his bulk over her side, his arm slung across her middle. She hadn’t slept so well in ages. She had felt safe and warm and comfortable in his arms.

He had also looked well rested, which was not always the case. It must have been good for him too. Ri’ella had tried to make a point of them sleeping together as often as was possible, which was much less than she would have liked. 

Well that, and the sex was great too. Like so freaking great. Had been. He wasn’t dead but in some ways if felt like he was. Because he wasn’t here. 

She would have the soldiers and the healers move him to her bed in the morning. Ridiculous maybe. A hassle. But she wasn’t above using her influence for this reason. She would feel more secure with him here. And if she guessed correctly, Bull would prefer to be laid up somewhere less exposed. It would give the Chargers and their other companions and friends more privacy when they came to see him.

And if she let herself be honest about it, she would be able to crawl into the bed with him. For her sake and for his. She missed him.

But work. She focused on the words before her. Duke something or other was willing to pledge funds if the Inquisitor would help him with some stupid family squabble over some useless piece of shem land. So very exciting. And she had to decide what the benefit would be and alternately what the consequences would be if they, she, refused. 

The candle on her desk burned down, wax puddling on the table beneath, when it guttered she rummaged for another candle in the desk drawer, pulled the almost dead candle from the desk, set the new one in the wax and used the lit candle to start the other. It was rote, it was habit. It didn’t even register, she just continued reading the contract.

She couldn’t let herself think about Bull. So she worked. And worked.

And worked. Until the rays of dawn began to light her room. Ri’ella sat back in her chair. Letting herself disengage. She stretched, hoping it would at ease some of the tightness that had crept into her neck, shoulders and back while she had been sitting at the desk. 

Soon enough she would be needed. Soon enough. 

Ri’ella looked at the empty, still perfectly made bed. A bed empty of her, empty of Bull. With a sigh she moved to the private shower in her room. A shower and a change of clothes, then down to the mess, then to the war table.

Should she visit Bull? She knew she probably should. She would still have him moved. But seeing him still, dying. Well it tore her apart. It made her weak.

She loved him.


End file.
